


up at dawn

by raggirare



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Yakuza Genji Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 04:26:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9367850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raggirare/pseuds/raggirare
Summary: “I do not often sleep past dawn, no matter how much I drink,” Genji drew his legs up and folded them. “It is not a luxury I regularly enjoy.”(In which Genji is still Genji but he never dies and instead he works on a give-and-take deal with his brother.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for so long and i f INALLY FINISHED IT I'M SO GLAD
> 
> English in italics is Japanese

Tokyo. It was everything that Hanamura wasn’t. It was big and modern and full of people packed into buildings and streets and public transport like sardines. There were foreigners of all variety, English splashed on every other sign and other languages mixed throughout, and Genji could hear traditionalists (distinctively in the voices of the clan’s Elders) screaming blasphemy at the society cultivated in the heart of the metropolis. Omnics brushed shoulders with humans as equals, sexualities flowed as fluidly as gender, and the only real concern that thickened the air of any club was the safety of those around them. It was a dark stain on the country, the kind where anyone involved followed an age-old ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ rule and those not involved simply feigned ignorance so long as it wasn’t shoved in their face.

It was the perfect place for Genji to act out in petty spite and prove, yet again, that the Elders didn’t have nearly as much control over him as they thought they did.

A trip to Tokyo hadn’t been his idea. Hanzo had sent him on family business he was either too busy or too unwilling (or both) to handle himself. Genji had taken it on himself to extend the visit from a day to a week, claiming the extra time for scoping the area and finding his mark. A half-assed lie that the clan head never called him out on, and the heir suspected it was because Hanzo needed the break just as much as he did himself; an increasingly familiar concept that fell on the tail of an unspoken agreement between them both to allow the younger his freedom at the cost of some sort of work. It wasn’t the complete dedication that the Elders wanted of them, and it wasn’t a near-joint leadership that their father had dreamed of seeing between them, either, but it was enough to protect what they held as brothers. A balance of respect and trust attempting to reduce strain (a vast improvement on their relationship three years prior).

Spite wasn’t reserved for just the Elders, though, not when it came from Genji. His brother bore the brunt of it when the leash was tightened, Genji biting back with laziness and lethargy and disinterest, putting off work he was tasked with, or completing it in the worst way possible, or just simply not doing it at all. With a leash this long, the heir had the job finished within hours of arriving in Tokyo, clean and quiet and without a trace, and had proof in his brother’s hands by lunch. 

A reply of confirmation and thanks, and Genji was free.

Free to do what, exactly, he hadn’t quite decided. It was too early in the day to lose himself to the thrill of the night, but there was little available to him in the city that he felt like doing alone. He had left his friends behind in Hanamura, wanting a break from their gold digging tendencies, but he was already regretting the decision, fingers itching to call someone, _anyone_ , to fill the silence around him. Genji resisted, though, and hid himself away instead, caring first for his swords and then for his appearance, primping and preening until he deemed himself presentable enough for whichever clubs he ended up crawling through. 

The first was lacking in every way. Too early, too quiet, too many bland personalities in preorganised groups. No one for Genji to acquaint himself with. It was a good enough place as any, though, to sit himself at a table alone and nurse a drink to pass time. He occupied himself with his cellphone, answering messages to friends left behind in Hanamura and catching up on social media and snapping artistic shots of the club environment around him as an offer of inspiration for Yusuke’s club back home.

The second Genji only approached out of boredom; boredom with his first attempt and boredom with being alone and boredom with being looked at as a regular person. It was a club that he regularly visited whenever he passed through Tokyo, complete with a seat reserved for him in the VIP balcony so long as he called at least five minutes ahead. There were faces there he knew, as well, even if he had never really taken the time to remember their names or who they even were. With the nightlife beginning to pick up, it was easy for Genji to let the stressors of home roll off his shoulders into alcohol and laughter and negative personal space. He wasn’t alone in the balcony or even when he ventured onto the dance floor or struck up conversation at the bar, but the personalities surrounding him were bland and dry. Even a pretty face here or there wasn’t enough to convince Genji to stay longer.

The third wasn’t a regular club on Genji’s list, but it wasn’t a complete unknown, and it was close enough to his Tokyo apartment that if no one caught his eye then he wouldn’t be embarrassed to stumble home alone with only his hand for company. It lacked a balcony for the VIPs, separating guests into their own booths instead, and Genji was forced to approach the bar himself if he wanted any chance of meeting someone. There were faces he knew but hadn’t talked to flecked amongst the strangers, but most of the clubs patrons tonight were tourists or those who looked like they should be. Languages other than Japanese filled the gaps in between the loud music, and the heir didn’t hear any trace of his mother tongue until he was ready to order.

Though calling it Japanese would be an insult. Genji felt himself physically cringing the more he listened and he did his absolute best to tune it out as he ordered himself a drink. Waiting time, however, meant his curiousity got the better of him, and he learned it was much harder to ignore someone’s voice when looking directly at them. He wasn’t shy in his act of checking the guy out, examining the young man from head to toe. He made no show of hiding the way his eyes worked from the head down, lingering in places that seemed infinitely more attractive when the foreigner stopped talking.

And then he had to open his mouth again.

Genji snorted. “Could you please stop butchering my language?” It wasn’t a gentle request,a sarcastic venom rolling off the tip of his tongue, but it seemed to bring the stranger great amusement. There was surprise, at first, from both the foreigner and the bartender he had been poorly attempting to communicate with, before the large man was barking a laugh and lifting a hand to the atrocious hat on his head. “I am sure you would not appreciate it if I were to butcher your language.”

“Darlin’, I’d have no problem listenin’ t’ya butcherin’ m’language s’much as y’like with a voice like that.” When the man spoke, Genji wasn’t entirely sure it could count as English, barely able to keep up with the speed let alone the harsh accent. “B’pleased as peach t’hear ya speak y’own, as well. Reck’n I confused the poor thing tryna order myself a drink.” The hand that had been tipping the brim of that ridiculous cowboy hat gestured to the bartender still waiting with the renowned patience and politeness of Japanese customer service. “Jus’ tryna order a bourbon on rocks. Said she spoke English but I’m reck’nin’ she weren’ expectin’ _my_ English. So I tried makin’ it easier for her, ’n’y’know…”

(The more the stranger spoke, the more certain Genji was that even he couldn’t butcher the English language more than what he was hearing.)

“Ice or whiskey rocks?” Genji finally replied once he managed to wrap his head around the heavy drawl. He was impressed with himself, really, given that English was a language he often found himself stumbling through, especially compared to his brother’s easy acquisition, and the alcohol he had consumed in the previous clubs taking more than just an edge off of his sobriety. It was a sense of pride that eased his frustrations towards the abuse his mother tongue had taken, and even allowed him to find amusement in the situation, his entire expression shifting to something easier and warmer and even more flirtatious. “Just the one? Or do you have friends waiting for you?”

“Rocks’d be migh’y fine if they’re available.” The ease seemed to be shared and Genji watched the stranger’s expression soften and relax and even partake in the amusement as well. A corner of the man’s lips quirked up. “Nothin’ worse than drinkin’ alone, ‘cept drinkin’ watered-down bourbon alone.”

Genji’s nod was sympathetic. He understood that feeling. He leaned against the bar, finally returning his attention full to the bartender, and fell easily back into his native language to relay the order, and then some. He ended up with a drink in each hand (one his own, one the stranger’s) and walking backwards from the bar, laughter blooming at the bartender’s refusal to take the man’s money.

“Then allow me, the amazing Genji, to save you from the two worst things in the world,” he said with a flourish, bowing and taking a drink of his own glass in the same movement. He winked. “Good drink, in good company.”

The foreigner was left lingering at the bar for a full minute as he seemed to try to process just what had happened. When he did, it was with a hand tugging his hat down to hide his eyes and frame the amusement tugging at his lips. “Genji, huh?” the stranger said with a chuckle as he fixed his hat and finally took a step forward. “Name’s Jesse. Go easy on me, partner.”

 

———

 

Waking in an unfamiliar bed wasn’t an unfamiliar notion for Genji. He was used to it, waking up with no clue of where he was in a bed that wasn’t his, with clothing strung around the floor and a heavy weight beside him. And, opening his eyes to a small bedroom filled with slivers of light from the rising sun, that was what he found. Mostly. It was unfamiliar, the bed smaller than his own and the mattress much harder, and the walls of the room were almost close enough for Genji to touch without having to move from where he was in bed, and lifting his head he could see his clothing from the night before draped over a chair in the corner.

But he was alone.

The sun was barely up, so it couldn’t have been any later than seven in the morning, and yet here he was, all alone in an unfamiliar place, beaten to sneaking out of the bed by his fling.

A first.

Genji let his head drop and his eyes close and he lay still for a long moment. He cracked an eye open, curious, and cast a glance to the bedside table. A glass of water, a pair of pills and his phone (plugged into a wall charger that was definitely not his) were carefully arranged, waiting for him. Considerate. He swallowed down the painkillers and then the rest of the water as well, and slowly pulled himself out of bed. Careful not to aggravate his migraine, he took every movement with care as he sat up and then stood and then shuffled his way over to the chair. He started with his boxers but abandoned the idea of getting full dressed when a smell caught his attention, wafting through what he had come to assume was a small apartment.

_Bacon_.

No way was he getting ready to leave if he was being made breakfast. Genji considered for a moment returning to bed, even, but he was up now with enough covering himself to be considered some form of decent, so instead he simply grabbed that god awful hat and placed it on his head and stepped out of the bedroom.

The apartment turned out even smaller than Genji had expected, with the bedroom stepping out directly into a living room, which was separated from the kitchen by nothing more than a breakfast bar with a pair of high stools on the living room side. Inside the kitchen, as naked as Genji was himself, Jesse was facing away, focused on whatever he had in the frying pan he was tending. A plate to the man’s left already held a low stack of pancakes, and an empty packet to his right had the heir questioning just how much bacon was being cooked.

“American breakfasts have egg and sausages as well, do they not?” he said, sitting himself down onto one of the stools and resting his elbows on the countertop, chin coming to rest in his palms. He made no attempt to hide the amused grin that slowly pulled across his lips as he watched Jesse startle, jumping in place before swinging to look behind him, obviously surprised by his presence. “Or am I making too much of a generalisation?”

“Damn, darlin’, y’scared me,” Jesse said with a laugh, having half a mind to look back to his cooking, though it was clear his focus was split. “Ain’t heard ya come in. Didn’t wake y’up, did I? Given how much y’drank last nigh’, I was expectin’ y’to be out for another hour at least.”

“I do not often sleep past dawn, no matter how much I drink,” Genji drew his legs up and folded them. “It is not a luxury I regularly enjoy.”

A chuckle bubbled up from Jesse’s throat as the American turned to turn the bacon in his pan before he lifted the plate of pancakes from beside him and placed them in front of Genji instead. “I can understand tha’ feelin’,” he mused, retrieving cutlery and a large bottle of syrup. “M’Pa was a cattle farmer out in the old west, so I was ou’ w’him every mornin’ before school. Boss is military through’n’through, so he forces me t’his schedule. ’S’just habit by now.”

Genji hummed and shifted one of his arms to take a pancake from the top of the stack before Jesse could drown them in syrup. He ripped a piece off, poking it past his lips. “Military, hm?” He watched the syrup flow over the edges of the stack and dipped the edge of another ripped-off chunk into the liquid sugar. “So you are military as well?”

Jesse snorted and placed the syrup bottle down. “Lord, no.” He rolled one of the syrup-soaked pancakes and shoved the entire thing into his mouth. He returned his focus to the frypan, tending to the cooking food as he chewed messily. His attempt to try and talk around the mouthful failed within seconds, so he instead opted to finish chewing and swallow before trying again. “I wouldn’ las’ a day in the military. Ain’ the life for me, yknow.”

“I am the same,” Genji mused, not bothering to swallow his mouthful of syrup and pancake first. “My brother, however. I have always believed he would be perfect in a military life. He would even bring his own tree, already stuck so far up his ass.”

The quip pulled a laugh from Jesse, making him almost drop the frypan and its contents. He managed to save it, placing the pan on the breakfast counter in front of Genji. “Not all military types are like that,” he said, hands finding a drawer and retrieving a pair of forks. “I mean. Mos’ve ‘em are, don’ ge’ me wrong. Boss’s bes’ friend, he’s go’ the tree ’n’ the roo’ system as well. Bu’ I know this one guy. Big as the tree, bigger, even, ’n’ he’s the nices’ guy I ever me’.”

Genji hummed. “I do not understand why it is considered a bad thing to have a tree up one’s ass,” he gave a shrug as he accepted one of the works offered to him and reached across to the frypan. “One would think it would be enjoyable.”

Jesse barked another laugh as Genji speared a small sausage. “We both know wha’ y’enjoy,” he grinned, only widening the expression at the wink he received in return. 

“It is not quite a tree, but the hat does make up for it somewhat.”

“‘Fraid I can’ le’ ya keep the ha’, darlin’, as goo’ as i’ looks on ya.” Jesse moved his attention between the bacon and the pancakes, copying Genji in abandoning all pretense of politeness and talking through half-chewed mouthfuls. “Though, I migh’ be able t’ le’ y’wear it if y’show me around town today.”

Genji’s eyes floated towards Jesse’s, never looking away. Slowly, almost purposefully dragged out, he blindly lifted a syrup-soaked chunk of pancake into his mouth and pulled it from the fork with his lips. Liquid sugar leaking from the corner of his mouth, he twisted his lips up into a smile and tapped the back of the fork against Jesse’s nose.

“Deal.”

———

“It is rude to stare, you are aware, no?”

Jesse gave a hum in response, but his eyes ddn’t shift. He kept his gaze on the other man, his lips quirked up into a gentle smile, seemingly oblivious to the spot of cream marring his upper lip. “Took ya t’be the sor’ t’like the attention,” he drawled. “Was I wrong?”

“Not at all,” Genji’s tone was near a purr as he leaned closer to the taller man. His tongue flickered out and swiped away the cream, before he pulled away again to return his attention to the half-eaten crepe in his hand. “Though I do suppose that would depend on why you were staring.”

“I was jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout how good y’look in my ha’,” the drawl continued. Jesse leaned forward on the table between them, elbow propped up and chin in his palm. “Thinkin’ ‘bout where I could ge’ y’one. Can’ jus’ give ya tha’ one, neither. Go’ tha’ from m’pa before he passed away. Bu’ I’d need t’have y’there in person t’ge’ i’ fitted proper…”

“I am sure there are plenty of options around Tokyo,” Genji said with a shrug, eyes falling to his food.

Jesse shook his head, his other hand reaching forward to swipe away a drop of chocolate sauce from Genji’s lip. “No good,” he said. “Only place t’ge’ proper ones like tha’ is back home.”

The heir scoffed down the last mouthful of his crepe, fighting to keep down a laugh as he chewed, almost choking on the mixture of crepe and cream and fruit. “That is the worst pick up line I have ever heard.”

“Wha’? No, I mean’ back _home_. Back in the states.”

Genji raised an eyebrow; reached a hand forward to cup Jesse’s cheek and lowered his voice. “One night together and you are already deciding to keep me all to yourself?” His smirk turned wicked. “I knew you Americans were fast, but _really_.”

“Keep talkin’ like tha’ ’n’ I migh’ have’ta change m’mind.” There was an attempt at a disgusted expression, or something more put out (Genji couldn’t quite tell) but a smile cracking through the middle of it left Jesse’s attempts in vain. “‘Sides, weren’ me who was havin’ trouble holdin’ on las’ nigh’.”

“Rude.” Genji’s attempt to look offended was only slightly more successful. “I was even considering inviting you to my apartment tonight, but perhaps I shall find go back to the club and find someone else.”

Laughter followed, briefly muffled by a press of lips against lips, a stolen peck by a shit-eating grin. “I’m gonna call bullshi’ on tha’ righ’ now, darlin’,” Jesse’s amusement soaked into his tone. His legs stretched out underneath the table and Genji returned the gentle shove he received. “You’d miss m’ha’ too much.”

Genji returned the peck with a smirk and leaned forward to whisper a, “Not if I take it with me,” against Jesse’s ear, before standing up from the table and walking away.

———

“You _live_ here?!” Incredulity flooded Jesse’s tone as he stopped stock still in the doorway of the apartment, looking around in shock. 

It was expansive, a loft-style penthouse topping one of the largest buildings in Tokyo. Only a single wall broke the space, separating the bathroom from the rest of the apartment, and bed hung over the living room. Every outer wall was glass, crystal clear windows looking out over the city on three sides. Genji was in the spacious kitchen, staring at him from where he was standing with the refrigerator door open.

“No,” he said simply. He closed the door and lifted a bottle to his lips, sculling down a mouthful or two of juice. “This is my holiday home.”

“Drink like a sailor, live like a king…” Jesse kicked his boots off, almost losing his balance as he tried to look at Genji at the same time. “Y’ain’ a pirate or nothin’, are ya? Betcha some kinda mafia kid or somethin’. Can’ believe ‘m datin’ a mafia kid.”

Once the older male had his boots of and his balance back, Genji was at his side with a finger to his lips to hush him. “No dating,” he whispered, the faintest of slurs at the end of his wordsand the redness in his face the only hints of just how much alcohol was in his system. “No feelings. Just drunken sex.”

“And breakfas’ ’n bed?”

“Yes. That also. Now move, cowboy.”

———

Dawn wake up calls were only encouraged whenever Genji stayed in Tokyo. The walls of glass lacked any sort of covering, no curtains or blinds or rollers, allowing the morning sun to flood the living space with warmth and light. The south-facing central wall allowed for constant sun throughout the day, and he only ever cursed it in summer with its sunrises at three in the morning. 

He was slow to stir in the familiar comfort of his own bed, sinking into the plushness of the mattress. The air was chill with early spring, forcing him to tug the comforter higher and roll into the warmth. The fact that warmth this morning was something much more solid and embracing than normal failed to sink in, sleep still hazing his mind. Not that he shifted very far when he did finally realise. He moved enough to open an eye and glance up to catch a bleary look at his bedmate, before it closed again and he tucked his face back in against Jesse’s shoulder.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” Jesse drawled, his tone lacking a sleepy edge that Genji had expected to hear. There was a shift of the arm underneath him and it occurred to the heir that the older man was probably using his phone. “Sleep well?”

The only answer that Genji could manage was a murmur, muffled against Jesse’s shoulder and (realised only after Jesse’s laughter) not in English. Disgruntled at the teasing, he gave the other man a shove and freed himself from the loose grip around him. He sat up slowly so as not to aggravate his lingering hangover, letting the comforter pool in his lap and slowly looking around the loft. Eventually, his gaze came back to Jesse, squinting a little. Staring.

Jesse raised an eyebrow in question. 

Genji pursed his lips in a frown. “ _Meshi_?”

Jesse blinked, confused. He broke eye contact for a moment, losing himself in recollection, trying to remember the word. He came up empty.

Before Genji could try and reiterate himself, though, his phone buzzed from the bedside table. He considered ignoring it for a moment, but the consequences wouldn’t be worth it. As much as he tugged on the leash around his neck, he knew he had to give back sometimes.

With a grunt, he dropped back to lie down and fished for his phone to answer it.

“ _What?_ ” Genji skipped formalities entirely, far from excited for an early morning phone call from his brother. “ _This better be important._ ”

“ _Good morning to you, too, brother_ ,” Hanzo didn’t sound remotely apologetic. “ _I have a job for you. Are you alone?_ ”

A grunt. “ _What do you think?_ ” Genji rolled, purposely burying his face against Jesse’s bare chest to muffle his voice. “ _Interrupting morning sex_ again _. It’s almost like you know exactly when is most inconvenient to call._ ”

“ _Unfortunate. This is important. You can go back to your hand after I’m finished._ ”

“ _Fucking rude._ ” Pulling the phone from his ear, the heir blindly shoved the phone against his companion’s ear. “Jesse, say hello.” The phone only lingered long enough for the man to stumble out a confused greeting before Genji pulled it back. “ _He’s American. Talk._ ”

There was a moment of silence (Genji recognised it as hesitation) before a reply came. “ _It’s an American we’re after._ ” A pause. “ _Overwatch is moving again. Kato says that known members have been seen around Tokyo asking the wrong questions. One that has caught our interest in particular._ ” Another pause, broken by the sound of pages turning. “ _He was a prominent figure during the Omnic Crisis but then disappeared almost entirely post-crisis and the appointment of the current Strike Commander._ ”

Running a hand through his hair, Genji sat up, silently mourning the loss of warmth from Jesse’s body. “ _Hanzo, it’s too early for a history test_ ,” he complained, rubbing his face. “ _Just get to the point._ ”

“ _Reyes. Gabriel Reyes,_ ” Hanzo continued after another pause. “ _Dropped almost entirely from public eye following the end of the Omnic Crisis. This is the first time we’ve seen him active at all, let alone in Japan. Find him, eliminate him if you can. But don’t underestimate him, Genji. Be smart about it._ ”

“ _King or not, he won’t be any issue_.”

“ _King_?”

Genji blinked. “ _Reyes is ‘king’, isn’t it?_ ” He asked, tone finally sounding more awake. “ _That’s what I remember, at least. That one Spanish guy I met really liked being called it._ ”

“ _I do not need to know,_ ” Hanzo heaved a sigh and the sound of pages being turned followed. “ _Priority is figuring out what he’s here for. If you can get rid of him quietly and easily, then do so. If not, at least find out who he is here with. He is likely not alone. Get it done and you’ll get the month._ ”

“ _A month from now?_ ”

“ _A month from the end of this week._ ”

Genji groaned and dropped back down again, ignoring the surprised sound of pain he forced out of a tense Jesse in the process. “ _Fine. Bye, Hanzo._ ”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Simply hung up and tossed his phone aside. After running his face and dragging his hands through his hair again, he rolled onto his side and buried his face into Jesse’s chest with a mumbled, “food.”

“What? No mornin’ sex?” Jesse teased, his arm looping around Genji’s waist.

“Eavesdropper.”

“Kinda hard not ta when y’practically speakin’ English.” One of Jesse’s hands began to comb through Genji’s hair, easing through the strands. “Was gonna make y’somethin’ like yesterday, bu’ y’kitchen ain’ go’ the mos’ supplies, y’know. Plus y’mentioned really wantin’ ramen las’ night, ’n’ I go’ no idea where t’get the good stuff.”

Genji groaned. “What is the time?”

“It’s… half six. Ain’ nowhere gonna be open ‘sides the convinience stores.”

A pause before Genji sighed and lifted his head. 

“Fine. Food after sex.”

———

“So your brother’s cuttin’ your holiday short?” Jesse asked after swallowing down a mouthful of ramen, tongue flicking out to lick away broth clinging to his lips. “Tha’ ain’ cool.”

Genji shrugged, swirling his chopsticks through his own bowl in search of the last bamboo shoots. “It is not much of a loss,” he said. “He has promised to make up for it. He is my brother after all. One must be there for his family.” He paused to lift a mouthful of the noodles to his mouth, half-chewing before continuing. “Hanzo and I only have each other. He is not a terrible brother. I do not mind helping him.”

“Family’s tha’ importan’ t’ya, huh?”

“Is it not important to you?”

Jesse chuckled and looked down to his bowl, poking at a floating piece of pork. “Ain’t had much’va family for a long time,” he explained, finally picking the abused piece of pork up. “Boss acts dad sometimes, bu’ tha’s ‘bout it.”

A hum vibrated in Genji’s throat, something of curiousity more than understanding, eyes shifting from Jesse’s face towards his shoulders. Before he could properly vocalise a response, though, the screen of Jesse’s phone blinked to life where it sat on the table. Set to silent, it vibrated the entire table surface and pulled both of their attention towards it. The heir’s eyes narrowed and his head tilted just slightly to try and make it easier to read the name before Jesse answered.

“ _¿Bueno, jefe?_ ” 

Genji’s eyes followed the phone up to Jesse’s face, furrowing his brow at the change of language. He knew it was Spanish, but that was as far as he could go, catching only one or two of the most basic pieces of vocabulary. And even that was only until Jesse stood up, apologised and excused himself.

The moment he was sure the door was closed behind Jesse, Genji’s hands were reaching for his own phone to tap out a short message to his brother.

_Jesse “Deadeye” McCree. Ex-Deadlock. What is ‘_ jefe _’?_

He had enough time to swallow two mouthfuls before a reply flickered onto his screen. He was glad for its timing, inbetween swallowing and taking another mouthful, because a laugh escaped unbidden, sudden enough that he would have spit out his mouthful if not choked.

_Boss. I should have known the only thing you took in from the Spaniard was his dick._

Genji finished lifting noodles to his mouth, chewing them messily with a wicked grin as he tapped out a reply.

_His mouth was always too busy to teach me much Spanish._

He only barely managed to hit send and click the screen off again when he heard the door of the small ramen bar open and close and heard heavy footsteps approaching. He glanced up midway through inhaling another mouthful and flashed Jesse a smile as the older man sat down across from him again.

“Sorry ‘bout tha’,” Jesse returned the smile as he placed his phone down on the table top and picked up his chopsticks again. “Boss ain’ the best a’ rememberin’ time differences. Was mean’ t’call me later today. Bu’ now this means I ain’ go’ any work t’do till tomorrow. So, wha’ I was thinkin’ was...” He prodded at his noodles, almost as though he were nervous about what he was asking. “I know y’said no datin’ ’n’ all las’ nigh’. Jus’ drunken sex ’n’ breakfas’ in bed. How ‘bout we go t’my place t’nigh’, ’n’ I cook us dinner. We can drink there after or go ou’, y’ge’ your drunken sex, I make breakfas’ in bed tomorrow mornin’ ’n’ then I can drop y’to your train.”

Genji continued to eat the entire way through Jesse talking, watching him carefull and only looking away to make sure he didn’t miss his mouth. He didn’t offer any response, though, until he finished his mouthful and ran his tongue over his lips and placed his chopsticks down.

“Deal,” he eventually said, hands resting on the table. “But only if you teach how to speak some Spanish as well, since you failed to mention you spoke such a _romantic_ langauge.”

Jesse’s smile pulled into a grin. “Whaddya wanna know?”

“How do you say ‘kings’?”

———

Genji had never been able to sleep sitting up. On long distance flights, on a train, in a car, even on a sofa, he always had to be lying down to be able to fall asleep. Waking sitting up with his head bowed forward was not so much waking as it was coming to, and between the haze over his mind and his arms being pulled behind him, it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. He didn’t move, though, beyond an experimentally tug at his arm and the bindings tying his wrists and ankles together, and kept his head hanging forward.

The room, what he could see of it, was bland and empty and dark, save for a table in front of him and a dim light above. Concrete, cold and heavy, with no noticeable windows that he could see out of the corners of his eyes. He was dressed in his own clothing, and shifting how he was sitting ever so slightly was enough to trigger a familiar twang of pain. Through the haze in his mind, he was able to piece together at least parts of the night before (or, at least, what he assumed was still the night before).

The heir remembered food, and teasing Jesse for his method of cooking. There was drinking, a trip to a nearby club because his favourite DJ was playing, and then more drinking when they got back. There was definitely sex. Genji couldn’t distinctly remember it but his body gave enough signs to give it away, but everything else was blank. Until this.

The sound of a door opening echoed in the small space, and heavy bootfalls filled the space afterwards. Another set followed as the first came into view and door creaked closed.

“Head up, Shimada. You aren’t fooling anyone.” One of the boots in view kicked a leg of the chair he was tied to. “I’m not even going to offer you the easy way ‘cause I know you won’t take it. I’m just here to talk, and you just have to listen.” A pause. Another sharp kick to his chair. “One more chance, Shimada. I didn’t get up at dawn to deal with your childishness.”

Genji smirked, but kept his head down.

“Right. You’ve used up all your chances.” A grunt, a pause (a hidden final chance). “Thought you might’ve only need one, but then again you aren’t your brother, are you? He at least knows how to show respect.”

The boots in the heir’s view shifted only moments before fingers brushed over his hair. They curled, tight, and wrenched, forcing Genji’s head up and back so fast he was only barely able to stop himself from cringing from the whiplash. He held the same smirk, looking up into a familiar face.

“The king appears,” he nearly purred, cockiness flooding his tone, defiant of the situation. He rolled his head in the vice grip just enough to meet the eyes of the other figure still standing by the door. “And his pauper.”

Jesse tipped his hat ever so slightly before folding his arms again.

“Never did get my breakfast in bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> I take writing commissions! Commission information can be found [here](http://raggirare.tumblr.com/commissions).


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